


Me, myself, and I

by pollycrevette



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, F/M, It's kinda sad, M/M, Temper Tantrums, and mean, everyone gets a kick out of it so mentioned, fuck off everything, very mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23229265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollycrevette/pseuds/pollycrevette
Summary: He was tired of hiding. He was tired of being guided.Stan wanted to break free.He did.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris
Kudos: 11





	Me, myself, and I

“You know what? Screw you. All of you.”

With anger, Stanley left the house, slamming the door after him.

**_“I love my friends, more than all”_ **

It was what he said to himself continuously, but there was a limit. Him had finally find it.

He couldn’t take it any longer to see Bill lean a little closer to Beverly, whispering sweet words to her. He couldn’t take it anymore of Beverly, who smiled foolishly and gave him sweet eyes. But if it was only **_them_**. He was fed up with the couple goal, sure, but he couldn’t take the others too. He was fed up with Mike who smiled constantly as if everything was fine after what they had experienced when nothing was going well. He couldn’t take it anymore of Ben, who continued to be nice while the girl he loved was dating another who had done nothing to deserve her. He was fed up with Eddie, who continued to throw his problems on his mother’s back when it had been a while since he’d gotten over it. And most of all, he was really fed up with Richie, who kept rejecting who he was behind more and more rotten jokes. He hated him so much, because he reminded him so much, who somehow rejected who he was too.

It was surely that common trait that had brought them together.

But the worst, and what he blamed him the most, was his aversion to Beverly. Beverly, who had appeared out of nowhere and had thrown their world off balance, who started dating Bill even though she knew it wasn’t him who had written the poem, and who lived with him such a beautiful romance while none deserved it. It was obvious that Ben loved her; it was obvious that Stan loved Bill. Despite everything, she accepted his advances when she knew she would break people. Maybe she didn’t expect such repercussions. Maybe she didn’t expect that Stan have the courage to do repercussions.

Stan knew he was mean. Stanley knew that it was just jealousy, that she didn’t deserve it at all, and that she didn’t have to reject her happiness even though she knew she could hurt people. More than anything, Stanley knew he shouldn’t be **_feeling_** that. And even though he knew that Beverly was just innocent and naïve, he couldn’t help but blame her. He had to blame someone, who better than the girl who had stolen his childhood love from him?

Stanley was an asshole. But fuck, he was aware of it and had no intention of changing it.

It was on Richie’s encouragements, who yelled him to leave, to flee as far as he could, that Stan crossed the Denbrough yard. He should have known that it was him who was encouraging. Who else would have the courage to do it? Who else would understand that this was what Stan wanted? Richie may have looked silly, but he wasn’t. Surely there has to be a countdown while waiting for the moment where Stanley would lose it since he suffered his first tantrum.

Well, your attention at all, ladies and gentlemen: this time was arrived!

And it’s with more determination than ever that Stanley flew away.

It was what he was doing. Stanley wasn’t running away; he was fucking off, flying out, like he always wanted, during years. All these days to dream of his beginning, sitting at park, never accompanied with the same person, pretending love birds because they were beautiful.

Birds weren’t just only beautiful. Birds were **_free_**.

Now that Stan was tall, he was free too. He was independent, and he had need no one anymore. It wasn’t a stupid boy who only had eyes for a pretty red-haired girl, or a father who was disappointed each time he opened the mouth, who would make him doubt. Stanley was tired of always lowering himself to the choices of others. He was fed up with letting others guide his life. He wanted to be proud of himself, he wanted to walk with his head held high, he wanted to **_live_**. No one could blame him; they had made him dream so much.

All the times Richie told him about it. Love, hope, drunkenness. Alcohol, drugs. Whenever Richie had told him what it was like to exist ** _for real_** , Stan felt like he was dying of jealousy. Why wasn’t he able to live? Why should he stay cloistered at home, reading the Torah under the reproaches of his father? Why did he have to sit back, watch the boy of his dreams flirt with another?

Why did he have to be the only to suffer?

Why should he need others, when he could sing alone, dance alone, have fun alone, live alone? Why should he need the others when he could write his life **_alone_** , as he saw fit?

He was fed up. For so long. It was obvious that one day he would leave everything, he would **_drop_** everything. If they didn’t realize it, it’s because they didn’t know him long enough. Maybe at first, they knew him. Maybe before IT, they knew him. But Stanley had changed, and no one wanted to update.

This is what they harvested. A flow of insults thrown in faces, and the curly boy furiously crossing the street to his car.

He was the youngest, had only 18 for a few months, but was the only one to have his license. Despite this, they didn’t understand that he wanted to leave. You could be so blind when you wanted to hide your face.

« S-Stan, wait! »

He turned back, the key already inserted in the car door. They all looked at him since the porch. Just Richie, always his cigarette in hand, seemed amused by the situation. Stan was persuaded that if the role were inversed, him too will be amused. For the moment, he only was mad.

“W-Why do you l-leave?”

Stan took the time to stare at his childhood friend, his childhood love. Billy, Big Bill, Stuttered Bill. Now, it was just Bill. He seemed him so dumb, now.

Richie’s smug smile gave him more courage. Him smiled too; it was just more scornful, more fake.

“’Cause we always say to me to live only with what I need. And all what I need, Bill, it’s just _me_ , _myself_ , and _I_.”

**Author's Note:**

> okay sorry for this mess  
> i just wanna say that i love beverly, and each of the Losers, but i read a fic where bill and bev dating and stan and ben were just "okay so sad but anyway" and sorry, but my stanley isn't like this  
> stanley uris is just tired of living like the others want him to do and he becomes a bulldozer and shit the world and fuck off (and richie supports him)  
> bref voilà it's all for him, good life
> 
> PS: i love Beverly, but i dont understand why she could date bill even though she knows it's not him who had write the poem, because it's just mean and she's not mean  
> she could sacrify her for his friends so well bye


End file.
